


Matters Internal to the State

by pendrecarc



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Gen, Post-Conspiracy of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/pseuds/pendrecarc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddis supposes she should be grateful her own wedding negotiations are progressing more smoothly than Eugenides'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matters Internal to the State

**Author's Note:**

  * For [septmars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/septmars/gifts).



> For septmars, who suggested beleaguered diplomats, the weight of statecraft affecting their relationship, and the political impact of certain developments.
> 
> Many thanks to [bookwyrm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrm/pseuds/bookwyrm) for the beta!
> 
> (Please see end notes for spoilery warnings)

“We will keep Ephrata,” said the queen of Eddis, “and our troops will remain stationed in Attolia.”

The room, which until then had been filled with the rustle of paper and the odd whispered conversation, went quiet. The queen of Attolia lifted one dark eyebrow. “Will they?”

“Yes,” said Eddis. “Those were the terms of the treaty we made before your marriage. I see no reason why they should change as a result of mine.”

Attolia smiled thinly, sending a shiver through several of those seated around the table. “One might argue, cousin, that your oath of allegiance to my husband and his heirs would be a good reason for renegotiation.”

“Ah yes, the oath.” Eddis nodded. “Might we review the proposed language again?” Her minister of war, his face as impassive as ever, handed her a sheet of paper. She cleared her throat. “My personal loyalty and sworn obedience to Attolis, my aid promised in time of war, my army and treasury made available to him—”

“One could argue,” murmured the magus from the other side of the table, “that the army is far _more_ readily available with troops posted all over his country.”

Attolia fixed him with a look. “And is this also the position of the king of Sounis?”

The magus spread his hands. “Your Majesty, Sounis can take no official position on an external matter. Attolis is his sovereign; Eddis his intended wife, but still unsworn to Attolis; my king has no authority here.”

“Conveniently,” one of the Attolian ministers said in an undertone. His queen ignored him. Eddis thought the real convenience was that Sounis had managed to avoid this particular conversation, as had his newly sworn lord and king. Sophos and Eugenides had met in a different part of Attolia’s palace to discuss minor ceremonial aspects of the upcoming wedding. No doubt the mood in that room was much more agreeable.

The magus went on, “If I may venture an opinion—”

“You may not.” Attolia turned back to Eddis. “The oath pledges your army to Attolis, and it preserves your autonomy only in matters not affecting my country. There is no possible interpretation that would allow you to garrison your troops on my land, at Attolia’s expense.”

“His country,” said the minister of war, speaking up for the first time. Eddis was watching Attolia carefully and caught the faintest sign of reluctance to meet his eyes. No, she thought, Irene was still not at ease with Gen’s father. “His land.”

“His as well,” Attolia acknowledged, but the minister of war shook his head.

“Not ‘as well’. For these purposes, it is Attolis’ country. Eddis will be sworn to him alone, not to you. Your Majesty.”

There was dead silence as Attolia regarded him. Her pale cheeks had two high spots of color. Then she nodded. “True. To Attolis, and also to his heirs in perpetuity. But unlike the magus, I am prepared to state my king’s position in this matter.” She stood abruptly, bringing her ministers and barons and various clerks to their feet. The stiff velvet of her overdress was like armor draped around her. Eddis herself rose with more deliberation. “If you will excuse me,” Attolia said, inclining her head to Eddis. “We can continue this in the afternoon.”

After the other queen had swept out of the room, the Attolians in tow, Eddis unbent far enough to close her eyes and rub her temples. “At least there have been no shattered windows, and I should be grateful this is not as difficult as arranging Gen’s wedding.” Someone snorted. “I am going for a walk in the gardens,” she announced, making her own exit.

The magus came up beside her as she strode down the hall. “Would you like me to take a more active role in this?”

She blinked in mock surprise. “I thought Sounis had no position on the matter.” He smiled. “No, thank you. You were right that my relationship with Attolia is not really Sounis’ concern, and I think we’d be better served by keeping some of our interests separate.”

“Do you think she’ll let you keep your troops in Attolia?”

“I know she’ll let me keep Ephrata,” Eddis replied. She had no intention of giving up her only port city. “And yes, some of the soldiers, too. Eugenides wants them. They’re the best forces in Attolia right now, and discipline and training will continue to improve as long as they stay. No doubt she will insist they take oaths of loyalty as well, and their chain of command will be restructured under the Attolian army’s.” The magus said nothing, so Eddis said aloud what they were both thinking. “They won’t like that.”

Sounis had told her about his conversation with Attolis, the evening after he swore his own oath. He had asked Eugenides how angry his countrymen would be at their former Thief. _Very. I’m trying not to think about it._ Eddis thought perhaps she could forgive her cousin for avoiding the worst of these meetings. He had taken a great deal of unpleasantness on himself.

They emerged into one of the sunny courtyards in the center of Attolia’s palace. The far side was thronged with guards and attendants, and in the center of them were the two kings, joking with one another and looking perfectly relaxed, as though they had not a care in the world. Certainly as though they had not spent the morning in delicate, headache-inducing negotiations. Eddis sighed. Her charitable impulse was suddenly much weaker.

The magus was wearing a curious expression. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That I may very well be the only person in history to have had the honor of cuffing the kings of both Sounis and Attolia upside the head.”

Eddis laughed aloud. The sound carried. Sounis turned to look for her, and their eyes met. He smiled that oddly fierce smile, and she felt her face warming in a way that had nothing to do with the late summer sun. “Excuse me,” she said to the magus, and went to meet her future husband.

As she crossed the courtyard, she saw an attendant drop a word in Eugenides’ ear. He scowled and made a show of taking his leave just as Eddis joined the group. “What was that about?” she asked, tucking her hand into Sounis’ proffered arm.

“The physicians again.” The sudden stab of worry must have shown on her face. “He says it’s nothing,” Sounis reassured her, but they both knew how much Eugenides’ word was worth. “How was your morning?”

She tightened her hold on his arm. “Difficult. Let’s not talk about it. I want half an hour in the gardens without a word of politics or intrigue or diplomacy.”

“As My Queen commands,” he said, drawing her away.

Their guards maintained a discreet distance for the length of their walk, and by the time they had completed a circuit of the queen’s garden, her headache was gone. It was unfortunate, then, that one of Eugenides’ attendants chose that moment to approach her. “Your Majesty,” he said. She tried to remember his name. There were so many of them. “Attolis Eugenides begs you to join him in his apartments.”

“Is he unwell?” she asked sharply.

“Not unwell, Your Majesty. Merely…difficult.”

_Of course._ “Very well,” she said, slipping her arm from Sounis’. “But I have an appointment with the queen.”

“Her Majesty is in her own apartments,” the attendant told her. “She has strictly forbidden any interruptions.”

Eddis nodded and made her way to the modest, plain rooms that overlooked the mountains of her home. Galen and the Attolian court physician waited with the king’s guard and his attendants in the rather cramped outer chamber. “What is the problem?” she asked Galen, who looked pained.

“His Majesty requires a reminder that there is very little point in asking for my services if he refuses to believe my assessments.”

“And you think I can convince him to be reasonable?”

“I think he had better explain himself,” Galen said, so Eddis left her own guards and attendants behind and followed the physicians into the bedchamber.

The first thing she saw was Eugenides himself, standing with his arms crossed and his back to her. He turned as the door closed, and the pleasure that usually crossed his face on seeing her was mixed with irritation. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Find out what? You don’t seem to be in immediate danger of expiring.”

“I am not,” he said. “I am not wasting away, and I am not about to keel over from the overexertion of a perfectly ordinary sword practice with my guard, much less a casual walk across the palace roofs. I don’t need to be bundled up on a warm evening, and I don’t need herbs stewed into my wine.”

“But you’re drinking them anyway,” Eddis pointed out.

“Yes.”

“To satisfy Galen? Or to satisfy your wife?”

“Neither,” said the queen of Attolia, and only then did Eddis think to look past Eugenides toward the upholstered bench on the far wall. She found the other queen sitting there, hands crossed in her lap, and Eddis realized that she would not be visible to anyone in the outer chamber.

“You are not locked in your apartments,” Eddis observed.

Attolia gave her a cool smile. “I was locked in my apartments. I made my way here.”

“She has become nearly as accomplished at moving through her palace as I am,” Eugenides said. Eddis read pride in his voice. So did Attolia, if her indulgent look was any indication.

“What is it that I’m here to find out?” Eddis asked again.

“The real reason I asked you to bring Galen on this visit.”

The queen of Attolia rose to her feet. “Oh,” said Eddis.

Attolia had removed the heavy velvet overdress, so beautiful and impressive but equally inappropriate for the summer heat, and without its stiff folds to shield her the fine linen underdress did nothing to hide the shape of her belly. She waited, her eyebrow crooked, for Eddis to take this in, and then she walked over to Eugenides’ side. “My husband, as usual, is being unnecessarily mysterious. He is also unnecessarily concerned.”

“Which is exactly what I have told him,” Galen said.

“What _we_ have told him,” interjected the Attolian physician.

“How long?” Eddis asked.

“Galen says four more months,” said Eugenides.

The Attolian physician made a dubious humming sound. “Perhaps a little longer, Your Majesty.”

Eddis chose to ignore what was clearly a dispute of long standing. “My congratulations.” She wanted to smile at Gen and to offer her hands to Irene, but she had obviously not been called in here for a family announcement. “Why haven’t you made this public? News of an heir would only strengthen your position.”

Eugenides was stone-faced. Eddis did not usually think he looked much like his father, but there were times when she could see a resemblance. “At the moment, the heir is only a possibility.”

Eddis looked between him and Attolia in confusion. “Even a daughter—” _Even_. The thought rankled. They had ample proof in this room that a woman could hold a throne, but she knew Attolia’s barons, the Mede, and anyone else with an interest in Attolian power dynamics would only consider the throne secure with a son to inherit.

“He is trying to say that I miscarried late last year,” Attolia explained. Her tone was easy and matter-of-fact. “I wasn’t certain at the time that I was carrying a child, so only a few people knew.”

And while an heir would strengthen them, reports that she had lost a child would do the opposite. “I see. So you wear heavy clothing in warm weather and give it out that Eugenides is consulting physicians for his own health.”

“My very delicate health,” agreed the king, whom everyone had heard complaining repeatedly and at length about his overly solicitous physicians and their unreasonable demands.

“I should be very angry with you,” Eddis told him. “You had me worried.”

“More than when he decided to marry me?” Attolia met her eyes squarely.

Eddis shook her head, but she was smiling. “No, never more than that. Is there reason to worry?”

“Galen says not, as most difficulties like my last occur before the child has begun to show. My own physician withholds judgment. They both agree that there is no reason to delay the announcement, and certainly no reason for me to be confined to my bed for the foreseeable future.”

“And the king of Attolia?”

“Is not a physician.”

“And he can speak for himself,” Eugenides said.

“That I know all too well,” Eddis replied. “Why have you decided to tell me now?”

“Because very soon we are going to finish these negotiations, and you are going to leave for Eddis,” Attolia said, “and I expect you will want to take your physician with you.”

“Please, My Queen,” Galen muttered, just loudly enough to be heard.

“And because it is becoming more difficult to keep this concealed, and I would like to make the announcement.”

“And Eugenides objects to both those proposals?”

“Loudly.”

“I see.” She considered for a moment. “Eugenides, as you’ve decided not to listen to either of these learned men, do you think their presence is necessary?”

“Thank you, My Queen,” Galen said.

“Oh, get out,” Eugenides snapped, and stalked over to slouch on the bench where his wife had been sitting.

When the physicians had left them, the two queens looked at one another. “You could make the announcement without consulting him,” Eddis suggested.

“I could.”

But that was not the problem. Eddis tilted her head, looking curiously at Eugenides. “He’s fretting?”

“Constantly,” Attolia said.

“A novel experience for him. I hope it’s given you a new sense of sympathy for the rest of us, Eugenides. But Irene, I don’t know what you think I can do about it.”

“I wasn’t the one who had you summoned,” Attolia explained.

Eddis laughed. Her cousin slumped more pointedly against the wall. “What am I going to do, Gen? Confine the queen of Attolia to her rooms? Offer you Galen like I would lend you a book?”

“I could command you to do it,” Eugenides said sulkily. Beside her, Eddis saw Attolia stiffen, but she ignored this to walk over to him, lift his chin with her hand, and kiss him on the forehead.

“Not yet,” she said. He looked up at her, and she saw many things in his eyes, pain foremost among them, with a good mix of the boyish terror she’d seen when he realized what it would mean to marry the queen of Attolia. Eddis would not let him see regret or hesitation in her own. “Not yet,” she said again, more gently, and kissed him again.

Then she looked at Attolia. “Make the announcement, but before you do, you should tell my minister of war yourself.”

“Are you certain,” Attolia said carefully, “that would be a good idea?”

“Yes. If you like, I will come and tell him with you.”

“Thank you,” Attolia said, and though her voice did not waver it was suddenly much quieter. Now Eddis did offer her hands, and Attolia took them in her own. Her fingers were cold.

Eddis moved to kiss her, first on one cheek and then on the other. “I am so very happy for you.”

The king was watching them. His queen raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Eugenides?”

He smiled, as though at some private joke, as Attolia crossed to him and bent down to kiss first his forehead and then his lips. “Wildly,” he murmured, and brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. “I do not fret.”

“Like a mother hen,” Attolia said, straightening.

“You were wrong about one thing,” Eddis said, as though continuing an interrupted conversation. Attolia and Attolis frowned. “You said I would be leaving for Eddis soon, when we finished these negotiations. ‘Soon’ seems optimistic.”

“I think we made good progress this morning,” Attolia said.

Eddis snorted. “We made no progress at all. Though now I understand why you kept mentioning my responsibility to Attolis’ heirs. Should we go and rejoin our ministers?”

“Only if you need Eugenides’ father to hand you papers you’ve already read and Sounis’ magus to provide unhelpful commentary,” Attolia said. She went to sit at the foot of the bed and indicated the place beside her. “I thought we could discuss it ourselves.”

“An excellent idea.” Eddis sat beside her. Eugenides stood up at once.

“You won’t be needing me,” he said, but Eddis shook her head.

“No-one knows Attolia is here,” she pointed out. “Why would I sit alone in your room for hours?”

He looked between them. “Is this going to take hours?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Eddis said cheerfully. “Now, where were we? Eddis will keep Ephrata, and our troops will stay in Attolia at your expense.”

“You may keep Ephrata,” Attolia said, with the air of one conveying a singular favor.

“You see? That is what I call progress. Now, as to my soldiers.”

Eugenides crossed his arms over his chest and sank back down onto the bench. His face was set in a scowl, but Eddis met his eyes before she turned back to the other queen, and she knew that they were smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> This contains a brief mention of a past miscarriage.


End file.
